


Afternoon Tea

by chasingriver



Series: Inception Bingo 2016 [3]
Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Community: inceptiversary, Fish out of Water, M/M, Tea
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-05
Updated: 2016-07-05
Packaged: 2018-07-21 16:32:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7395064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chasingriver/pseuds/chasingriver
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Eames had told him they were going for tea, this wasn't what he'd expected ...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Afternoon Tea

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Inception Bingo "Fish out of water" trope. 
> 
> Thanks to kate_the_reader for the beta!

“You owe me so big for this, Eames,” Arthur says through a forced smile. 

“I know, darling,” Eames replies, quietly enough that his parents won’t hear him beneath the quiet murmur of the restaurant and its low-key tinkling of bone china cups and saucers.

‘Restaurant’ is an understatement. They’re sitting in the ‘Tea Lobby’ of the The Empress hotel in Victoria, Canada. It’s a palatial establishment, a relic of another age, overlooking Victoria Harbour in British Columbia. And it’s very British — at least this square mile is — it might as well be a hundred years earlier if it weren’t for the giveaways — a surly teenager in a hoody sits next to his mother, decked out like she’s going to Ascot; a small child lets out a screech and is quickly silenced by a horrified parent; someone surreptitiously checks a cell phone in between bites of a cucumber sandwich. 

And then there’s him. He isn’t out of place in his three-piece suit, not by by a long shot — Eames’ lack of a tie is far more notable — but the linen tablecloths and ridiculous place settings and what the hell are these silver towers they’re delivering food on, anyway? The scones, he recognizes from Starbucks (sort of), but not what they’ve put on them — some sort of white goo they claim is ‘clotted cream’ — which has to be the most unappealing name ever used to describe a food. The sandwiches have had their crusts removed with the same care and precision he used last week when he wired the Columbian Embassy to explode in a dream level. And all these miniature cakes … there must be an Oompa Loompa assembly line back in the kitchen area. That makes as much sense as anyone spending their day painstakingly decorating something that can be eaten in one bite. 

He stares into the middle distance of the harbor and watches the boats move in and out of view. Breathes. Remembers to smile. Drinks some of the tea, which really isn’t his thing, but he can stomach it without milk. (“Are you sure you don’t want milk?” Eames’ mother had asked, pushing it in his direction, and he’d almost caved and asked for coffee, but he didn’t think you could go to Afternoon Tea, and order coffee, and come out with your ego intact.) 

“You owe me _so_ big for this, Eames.”

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on tumblr at [chasingriversong](http://chasingriversong.tumblr.com).


End file.
